You’d spent more nights at the Camerons’ house than you could count. Being Sarah’s best friend made their home your second one—and that included living in the background of her older brother Rafe’s loud, chaotic life.

Rafe, who always had a drink in his hand and his girlfriend on his arm. The girl everyone thought was perfect for him. You didn’t look too close. Didn’t let yourself.

Tonight, he and his friends were completely wasted, laughing over nothing, doing dumb stuff that had you and Sarah wheezing with laughter from the couch. But eventually, the house quieted. People disappeared. You went to the guest room, crawled into bed, and left the door cracked open like always.

Your eyes were just starting to close when you heard it.

Footsteps. Then the soft creak of the door.

You didn’t move, but your brows furrowed.

“Who is it?” you asked, your voice low, groggy.

No answer.

Just the bed dipping under added weight. Warmth pressing against your side. And then—his head.

Rafe.

His face buried against your bare stomach, arms loosely draped over your hips like he belonged there. Your entire body tensed, heart immediately pounding in your chest. You knew this wasn’t right. He was drunk. So drunk. And he had a girlfriend.

That’s when it hit you—he thought this was her room. He thought you were her.

Your mouth parted, ready to say something, to correct him, but then—

Soft kisses. Placed gently along your skin, one after the other.

And then, in that messy, broken voice of his, he whispered, “I love you.”

The breath you’d been holding shattered in your throat. You knew those words weren’t for you. They were meant for her. This was all a mistake.

But still, you didn’t stop him.

Because even if it wasn’t real—God, it felt like everything you’d ever wanted.